Chapter Four: The Hollow Years

  Eshina’s eyes snapped open.

  His ceiling stared back at him, the cracks in the pster forming patterns he’d never noticed before. His breath was uneven, his body damp with sweat. His fingers twitched against the sheets, and as he lifted them into the dim morning light,

  Blood.

  Dried, caked under his fingernails, staining the creases of his palms. The sight sent a bolt of panic through him. His legs trembled beneath the weight of his body as he sat up too quickly, his head pounding as if something inside was trying to cw its way out. His mind raced.

  The mountains. The librarian. The book.

  It felt real. The cold air biting his skin, the weight of the body beneath his hands. But if he was here had it really happened? His gaze darted to his desk.

  And there it was.

  The book. Sitting in the exact same spot it had been before. As if it had never left.

  Eshina swallowed hard. His heart drummed against his ribs as he hesitated, then slowly reached out. The leather cover felt rough under his fingertips, unnaturally warm. The moment he touched it, a shiver ran through him. Images fshed in his mind,

  The librarian’s torn throat,

  The blood soaking into the dirt,

  A whisper, something inhuman,

  He yanked his hand back, gasping. His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven movements. He needed to know.

  Throwing off his bnket, he stumbled to his feet. His legs felt weak, unsteady, as if he had walked somewhere far in his sleep. He forced himself toward the bathroom, gripping the sink to steady himself. His reflection in the mirror was a ghost pale, drawn, his dark eyes rimmed with shadows. He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: Had he ever truly slept at all?

  His gaze dropped. His shirt, his arms,his neck all stained with faint smears of blood. No. He couldn’t have done this. His fingers ran over his skin, tracing the sticky residue. But the blood... It was real. It was his.

  It wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t just imagining it.

  He swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down his throat. He had to go back to the mountains. If what had happened was real, there had to be something there. Something that could expin what was going on. Something that could expin why he had no memories of the past two years.

  Years. The thought felt alien. He hadn’t realized it before, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt the absence. Thirteen to fifteen. That span of his life was completely bnk. A void in his mind, stretching into an endless, unfilled gap. It wasn’t just a few forgotten moments it was years.

  Why? Why couldn’t he remember anything?

  His fingers clenched into fists, the blood beneath his nails digging into his skin. The pressure behind his eyes was unbearable now, as if his very thoughts were trying to escape from him. But there was no time to dwell on that. He needed answers. And the only way to find them was to go back.

  Eshina forced himself to the front door, the house cold and silent. No one was home. Of course, no one ever was. His parents were dead. They had been since he was young. But that too there was a bnkness to the memory. He knew they were gone, but the pain, the sadness everything that should have come with it was absent. Just another patch in the fabric of his missing years.

  The world outside was just as lifeless as his home. The streets were empty, the wind carrying no sound, no movement. He walked in a haze, his thoughts distant. The closer he got to the mountains, the heavier the air seemed. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift with every step, as if the world itself was uncertain, ungrounded.

  The town he passed through felt wrong, like it had been frozen in time. The people walked mechanically, their eyes dull and hollow. They didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge him as he passed by. The cars driving by had their windows rolled up, and the people inside seemed to stare ahead as if they were in a trance. No one reacted to him. No one even blinked.

  The chill of the mountain air gripped him as he began the climb. His breath came in sharp bursts, the cold air biting into his skin, but it did nothing to soothe the unease that crawled up his spine. Each step seemed to echo in the silent ndscape, amplifying the pounding in his chest. The weight of what he might find what he knew he would find pressed on him like a leaden hand.

  And then he saw it.

  The clearing at the foot of the mountain. The bloodstains still dark on the ground, soaked into the dirt. His stomach twisted as he stepped closer. The air here was thick, as if it held the remnants of what had happened. The smell of iron lingered, just beneath the cold scent of the trees. His hands shook as he crouched down, his fingers brushing against the soil, feeling the residual dampness. The memory of the librarian’s body, cold and lifeless beneath his hands, rushed back in full force.

  He looked around, his gaze darting through the trees, expecting something anything to move. But the woods were silent. Only the soft rustling of the leaves in the wind disturbed the stillness. He should turn back. This pce felt cursed.

  But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

  The body was still there, lying motionless, exactly where he remembered. The librarian. His throat torn open, his face frozen in a silent scream. The eyes were wide, unseeing, staring into the void.

  Eshina’s breath caught in his throat. The sight of it was almost more than he could bear, but he had to. He needed to search. He needed to find answers.

  His fingers were still trembling as he reached out, pulling the librarian’s coat open. The body was cold, stiff. But there, nestled between the man’s fingers there was something.

  The book.

  The same cursed book from the library.

  He yanked it free, the moment his fingers touched it sending a jolt of electricity through his arm. It was warm. Too warm. He could feel something humming beneath the surface of the leather cover, something almost alive. And then, just as his grip tightened, something happened.

  The librarian’s body shifted.

  A twitch. A groan.

  And then the mouth, split and torn, opened.

  A voice guttural, wet, and wrong came from the corpse’s throat.

  “You forgot for a reason.”

  Eshina staggered back, his pulse roaring in his ears. The body was still. The air around him felt thick, charged with something dark. He could feel it, pulling at him. The book, now in his hands, felt alive like it was feeding off of his fear, his confusion. He looked down at it, his fingers curling tighter around it, as if it were pulling him in.

  And then the thought hit him.

  What else have I forgotten????????

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